Through the Phone
by TheXWandererXWithin
Summary: When a character straight out of Death Note comes crawling from the grave, Wanda Queue doesn't know what to think. However, after confirming that the character is L, come back for revenge, things don't seem quite as impossible and aren't what they seem.
1. Chapter 1

**Recalled To Life**

The day was balmy, and a soft breeze rustled through the trees. Hummingbirds hummed while bees whirred, both surrounding the beautiful arrays of flowers growing from the window boxes placed underneath the windows of apartment buildings.

It was a good day.

A perfect day.

Things weren't supposed to go wrong.

Evil things, the kind of irreversible things that weren't supposed to reverse themselves, were not meant to take place.

But they did.

And it would change the course of humanity forever.

* * *

_Sadness._

That's what this place was rife with. Cemeteries always had that wistful feeling to them; always emanating nostalgia, and I hated it.

And I _always _would.

Ever since I was kid I never liked remembering stuff like death.

Memories…only ever brought pain.

No, I didn't like remembering, but I never let myself forget. To forget would be to become ignorant, just like the rest of the world. If I allowed myself I would become stupid and I would end up trying to pretend sadness and hate and death didn't exist.

And here I was again, forcing myself to come to this green, peaceful and contemplative place to honor the death of one of the few people I cared about in the world.

My granddad.

He was doctor. He worked really hard too.

As psychiatrist he was always speaking with the mentally insane from institutions in the area. All it took was one screw up and he was gone.

The stupid guards who had brought an insane dude from jail to see my granddad just _walked away._ They didn't stay like they were supposed to and, of course, while my granddad was asking the guy questions he was attacked by surprise...the only reason he survived was because a nurse heard him groan in pain and came to investigate. She called the guards, who pulled crazy dude away and went back to the prison.

But even so, it all went downhill from there.

He was admitted into the hospital and was then diagnosed with diabetes. He gave up. He didn't want to live anymore. And when my mom came running into my room crying and saying "Granddad's dead," I was the one who didn't shed a tear. I don't know why. Maybe I'm heartless. But always, when someone dies that I know I never cry until later.

* * *

I got out of my Mercedes. Yeah, yeah I know. Don't judge me as some rich girl from the suburbs cause I'm not. The Mercedes was pretty much a piece of crap if you think about it. It seemed way too old to be driven and the engine was really loud. The people who used to own it must've smoked because the interior smells like cigarettes. My dad bought it off the side of the street and gave it to me when I was fourteen and _**couldn't drive. **_Still, at least it was a car. But now that I think about it, why did I have a car? The only thing I used it for was driving here and next year I'd have been using it to drive to Georgetown….whatever.

I huddled inside my custom-made pink bunny hoodie as I walked through the dewy grass.

I sauntered underneath the rippling bows of a tree. The wind blew a bit harder and I turned my head towards it. Immediately my eyes fell upon a gravestone, _–Duh, we're in a cemetery here!- _and my eyes widened in disbelief.

'_No way!' _

The wind blew even harder as I stared at the name engraved in stone before me. It felt a bit like a hurricane was starting up, and honestly that's no surprise these days. I was told once that we never used to have insane weather like this before, and hurricanes wouldn't just start up spontaneously.

I really should have begun running back to the car by then and huddling underneath the seat. By now it was obvious that a really big storm was coming, judging by the dark, fast-moving clouds. A lightning bolt shot across the sky, illuminating my face.

'_Why can't I move? I'm just…numb.' _

Because I really _couldn't_ move away. I was stuck, staring at words I couldn't even consider genuine. I had to investigate. Without really thinking, I turned, walked over to the headstone and crouched beside it, placing my hand over the first letter…

"Lyric…Lawliet?" I said, calculating the possibilities, the chances there were to have come across a grave with a name that had adjacent _(A.N. Not sure if this is the right word.)_ initials, plus _Lawliet _for the last name. It was too unlikely.

And yet…it couldn't be fake.

It was obvious the headstone had been carved properly and there was no way a bunch of kids could have made a tombstone that realistic, and even if they could, why would they?

Plus, what if _this _Lawliet wasn't the same Lawliet that I knew?

The situation around me was beginning to look dangerous. The wind was blowing super hard by then, and even though it wasn't raining yet it wouldn't be long before the hail of water came bucketing down.

Then an idea popped into my head. Carefully, so as not to lose any of the petals, I drew the white rose* from the warm confines of my hoodies' pocket that had been meant for my granddad's grave.

He'd get over it.

I gave him one every month anyway.

I shivered as I leaned down closer to the soil that I knew lay like a bed above a decaying coffin.

"_I hope you accept it. I bet it's lonely down there." _I whispered to the singular blades of grass and dirt as I placed the rose upon the ground. I began to draw myself upwards and away from the cold, hard ground when I realized I _couldn't move. _

It wasn't like before, the transfixion I had expressed when looking at the words upon the stone slab. This time, I had lost control of my limbs, like I was frozen in time.

My eyes stared at the soil, stationary and unable to even blink.

And, to my horror and astonishment, the ground began _bubbling_.

"W-What?"

The grave's soil began caving in, dirt crumbling into pieces and disappearing into the depths of the earth. Then I saw the remains of skeleton's hand, reaching, reaching for the hole that was beginning to form. A scream built up in my throat and I struggled with my vocal cords but I could not let it loose.

So I watched as the skeleton became more visible. Another hand emerged from the darkness and clawed the walls of mud that served as its prison. Finally, a skull appeared. Grotesque and decayed it was, its eye sockets empty and searching as well as tufts of what seemed to be extremely dirty and fraying black hair attached (in certain places) to its cranium.

The wind howled and battered me as I gaped at the emerging figure. I was terrified beyond imagination. Questions rushed through my mind.

_What could it possibly want from me? _I wondered.

_Have I unleashed a zombie or something? _

_Is it going to kill me?_

This was…probably the first time I'd ever been so scared.

* * *

All right, here's a little snippet of my situation: I was stuck outside in a cemetery with a hurricane practically forming around me, while I, unable to move, watched a corpse crawling out of its grave.

Yeah, _definitely _best day of my life.

The corpse was _way _to close to the entrance for my liking by now, and he was picking up speed. The closer he got the surface, the more he seemed to look a little less…dead, and a little more…human.

_Don't come closer, don't come closer, don't come closer!_

I was freaking out. Now he was three inches from freedom, and all he had to do was reach up and pull himself out.

_Ewwwwiieeee!!!_

He was reaching for the ledge.

His hand was opening, ready to grab.

Almost there…Almost…

Then something happened that made me so confused I could barely remember what was going on.

As his skeletal fingers had closed around the muddy ridge, _something _pale and membrane like began growing on them, covering the bones. As the corpse heaved himself out of the hole, he began to transform. The second the sunlight touched a part of his body, that part glowed –figurative term- once more with life.

It was probably the creepiest thing I had ever seen in my life.

Especially when I realized that the individual dragging its way out of the depths of hell shouldn't even exist in my world.

I assumed he was human. He looked it when he had finally pulled himself out and began brushing all the dirt off his clothes. Still, that didn't stop me from once more trying to break free of the invisible bonds that held me to my place.

I began to zero in on the guy's characteristics, wondering if I could take him down and get away in time.

_Slightly longer than average (for a guy, anyway) ebony hair;_

_Baggy blue jeans,_

_A plain white long sleeved t-shirt…_

….wait, what?

_Pale skin, almost as fragile looking as crepe paper…_

Oh my god.

Slowly and deliberately, I raised my eyes to his face.

I saw his eyes.

And got my second shock of the day.

I was definitely hallucinating. There was no way he could exist, let alone come clawing of his grave like a vampire.

None. Of. This. Is. Possible.

And suddenly, the pressure holding me down was gone. I could move again, and my vocal chords could work once more. I was still staring at his face.

"Thank You."

His voice was almost a monotone, but with an underlying tone of expression.

It was…sort of mesmerizing.

_Don't tell me, he's some sort of vampire?_

_God damn, if there weren't any fucking screwed up stories of vampires falling in love with humans and making babies because fucking Stephanie Meyer, I wouldn't be thinking like this._

That's when I looked up and realized he was _walking away._

Um, no.

Just no.

If you think you're gonna put me through some bloody trauma, just say two words, and just _walk away _you are fucking kidding yourself.

"HEY!" I screamed suddenly, surprising myself.

He stopped.

I stopped.

Everything just _stopped moving. _Even the wind just ceased to be.

Silence. Dead silence.

He turned his head slightly to the side, and I felt as if he were staring right at me.

I swallowed.

I could almost feel the anger pulsing off him, rolling off in waves.

Well, at least I knew how was gonna end up.

You know, dead.

_(*= a white rose symbolizes purity, innocence, silence, secrecy, reverence, humility, youthfulness, "I am worthy of you", Heavenly.--I chose this because it really represents L's character, and plus I really like white roses.)_


	2. Chapter 2

I waited in the darkness, my muscles screwed in tension. It crossed my mind that I didn't know how long I'd been sitting here, waiting for death. Maybe he killed me and I was already dead.

Unfortunately, this thought brought me to feeling again, and I realized that my eyes were squeezed shut. I paused. Then, terrified of what I might find, I decided the best course of action was to quickly get it over with.

I threw open my eyes and almost threw myself backwards. Inches away, the wide-eyed corpse stared unblinkingly at my face. Black as coal, deep as mines, they seemed to be examining every contour, orifice and blemish I had to offer. The blue veined skin of his cheeks seemed to pulse with integrity; pieces of his shaggy black hair falling into his field of vision. Shallowly, he breathed.

He smelled of pine, and earth; the sun, reflected in his swallowing gaze, turned gelid. I didn't move. I listened to our breathing.

"Yes?" He asked suddenly, with an energy I didn't expect.

"Uhh…"

What? What was I going to say again? Something…something…about scaring…something…

"'Uhh' is a colloquial term used to express surprise or misunderstanding. It also contributes nothing of any interest to a conversation." He drawled monotonously, still in his strangely perky tone.

Irritated, I shot him a dirty look. "This was never a conversation. A conversation is a dialogue in which two individuals talk about something of interest to them."

He shifted his feet, remaining in a hunched position. Pivoting his head backwards to the left slightly, he regarded me at another angle. The power of his gaze was beginning to bother me.

After a moment of silence, during which I still refused to even twitch, he pursed dry lips. Poking a cherry tongue from the confines of his mouth, he proceeded to rub the upper lip as if in thought. His eyes narrowed.

"Well, I suppose you had the right to address me. I _do_ owe you to some extent," Took a hand from its pocket and scratched his mane. "You granted me leave of absence from that hell."

Too tired, I let my shoulders fall and sighed. "What are you talking about?"

As if irritated by my lack of comprehension, he swung his head to glare at some daffodils wilting in the humidity. Pausing again, he lifted his gaze to the clouds.

With the intensity of the storm blowing around us, he looked like something straight from a horror film.

"I don't know the details of it exactly, but you did something to let me out of my eternal prison." He swung back to look at me, a terrifying grin stretching across his face. "They read me the rules from the Book of the Dead from my cell. In the event that one is set free from death, the evictee must repay the evictor with an equal sum."

My eyes widened, my lips glued shut. What little blood that was already in my system drained completely from my head. He gave a high-giggle that reverberated in my bones.

"I guess that means I'm stuck with you for awhile!"

My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists. In fact, my whole body was shaking. I wondered vacantly that perhaps the corpse had given me some sort of illness that dead bodies usually carry.

Blankly, I stared at this creature in front of me. No, he most certainly was not the L Lawliet pronounced to be the Great L. The Great L, who they pronounced dead on TV. Lyric Lawliet? A distant relative, maybe. Not the real thing. He couldn't be.

I turned and stumbled towards the parking lot, light-headed.

_I forgot. Where am I? This seems familiar. This grass. This car._

I melted into the car seat. Smooth leather. Soft. Yes. Now, ignition. Turn key. I heard the car spring to life. _To life._

I shuddered. I couldn't remember, but that had a bad connotation to it. I began to drive. An out-of-tune marching band was parading back and forth in my head. My hands felt clammy. My breathing was uneven. I stared at the black tar in front of me; following the white dotted line as if I was blind and it was my guide dog. Thankfully, I knew the streets so well the way home was second-nature to me.

I focused on my breathing.


End file.
